Sammie and Susie Littletail eBook

“What sort of a bird is it?” asked Sammie,
who now had no wish to jump. “I’m
sure it can’t be very harmful. The only
birds that I have to look out for are owls, eagles
and hawks, and it isn’t any of them.”

“No, I’m not one of them,” spoke
the bird with the long legs, snapping its bill as
if sharpening it. “I’m a blue heron,
that’s what I am, though some folks think I’m
a stork or a crane.”

“Well,” spoke Sammie, “you’re
not dangerous, are you?”

“Not for you,” went on the blue heron,
and he snapped his beak again, just like two knives
being sharpened. “I came for that fellow,”
and the bird lowered the leg it had hidden under its
feathers and pointed at the frog. “I came
for you,” the heron went on. “You’re
wanted at once. What’s your name?”

Sammie Littletail thought the bird might have asked
the frog’s name first before saying that Bully
was wanted, but the bird did not seem to consider
this.

“What’s your name?” the long-legged
bird asked again.

“Bully,” answered the frog, in a trembling,
croaking voice.

“Humph!” exclaimed the heron. “That’s
a good name. Mine is Billy. Bully and Billy
go well together. I’m called Billy because
I have such a long bill, you see,” the heron
explained to Sammie Littletail. “But enough
of this. I’ve come for you, Bully.
I’m hungry. I’m going to eat you.
That’s why you’re wanted at once and immediate.”

“I—­I think there’s some mistake,”
faltered Bully.

“No mistake at all,” snapped the heron.
“It’s in all the books. Cranes, storks
and herons always eat frogs, mice and-so-forth.
I never ate any and-so-forth, but I imagine it must
be very nice. At any rate, I’m going to
eat you!” and he snapped his bill like three
knives being sharpened.

“Oh, are you?” cried Bully, the frog,
and he suddenly gave a great jump, greater even than
that which the Jumping Frog that Mark Twain wrote
about gave, and into the pond he plunged, and went
right to the bottom. Now, what do you think about
that? Yes, sir, he went right to the bottom,
where the blue heron couldn’t get him, and then
he called up, in a voice which sounded very hoarse
because it came from so far under water:

“Ha! Who got left?”

“I suppose he means me,” spoke the heron
to Sammie, and the bird, very much annoyed, fanned
itself with its long leg. “I don’t
believe that’s fair,” the heron went on.
“It’s in all the books,” and then,
with a great flapping of wings, the tall creature
flew away, and Bully, the frog, came out.

Which they did, only the frog always jumped into the
water and Sammie remained on dry land, so they never
could tell who was the best at it. Then they
played other games, and became very good friends.
The frog pond was very near the new burrow where Sammie
lived, and the two used to meet quite often.
One day the frog said: